She's been snuggled next to me all night, and has been making peculiar noises in her sleep - I expect she's been killing something.
In case you were wondering, Chloe is my cat - a black and white shorthaired persian cross - and she lives at my parents house, which is where I've been since 10pm Thursday evening when dad collected me from work in a crumpled ball of nausea, head pain and shivers.
I've been in bed since then without getting up. Apart from a brief trip to the doctors yesterday morning for a sick note, I've done nothing but lie under the duvet in the back room taking painkillers and being delirous...so delirious in fact that Friday night my brain was kicking out all kinds of random poetic imagery and utter nonsense...grimy spike-toothed children peering in through broken windows into a room in which I sat huddled in a blanket...and some odd poem about viewing normal everyday life from the perspective of a film director...but replacing every word 'I' with 'Eye' so that it ran thus: 'Eye see, Eye translate, Eye direct, Eye view, Eye percieve, Eye edit...'. That kind of thing...
So I am ill yet again...this time quite severely so...which sucks as I got a Stage One warning at work on Wednesday due to previous absences (8 in the last year) and am now only allowed to have a further 2 absences within the next 12 months or I go onto the next disciplinary stage and possible dismissal. Eep!!
I have an evil sinus infection coupled with a persistently vicious flu virus - hot and cold flushes/sweats/shivers, vomiting, coughing, head feeling like it's being trepanned by a sizeable crowbar, and my eyes are strobing like the flickering countdown at the start of an old movie...
Talking of which, this all came on after going to the Arts Centre cinema Thursday evening...not that I am blaming it, there are plenty of other reasons why I have been run down and ill of late...
I had not had a particularly fantastic day, and consequently had only managed 3 hours of sleep, so I went out at 5pm with what I thought was a dull migrainous headache which I dismissed with aspirin.
Jean and I went to see 'Ten Minutes Older - The Trumpet'...It was, in a word, superb. I think the blurb from the programme explains it better than I could:
Ten Minutes Older - The Trumpet
Dir. Victor Erice/Werner Herzog/Jim Jarmusch/Chen Kaige/Aki Kaurismaki/Spike Lee/Wim Wenders. Germany, 2002,some subtitles. Atom Films.
The most convincing example in years of that much-maligned artform, the portmanteau film. Seven of the worlds best arthouse directors were each asked to make a ten minute film on the subject of 'time'. From Chen Kaige's odd offering through Werner Herzog's fascinating anthropological documentary to the sublime B&W mini-masterpiece by Victor Erice each one surprises and delights. In between, Wim Wenders' tense race-against-time road movie, Jim Jarmusch's tale of an actor waiting off-set, Aki Kaurismaki's wonderfully eccentric romantic fable and Spike Lee's brilliant, rapid-fire take on the Bush/Gore election debacle. Stunningly diverse, remarkably consistent with Erice's film being worth the ticket price alone.
And oh, but it was!!
The imagery in Erice's short piece...the tension and the symbolism...I won't spoil it for you, but it most certainly stood out above all the rest...although Jarmusch's "INT. TRAILER. NIGHT" was so like being at theatre when I was on a 'break' between shows during the panto run...I could totally identify!! Break, my ass!! Constant interruptions and no quiet anywhere in the entire sodding building...
Having seen the film, she and I had coffee in Cafe Rouge and discussed each short at length along with other 'local' art projects, then we went on to work at about 8:30pm and I got worse from there.
When I say 'local' I generally mean 'crap'. In my opinion, if you replace the word 'local' in any local paper/news/whatever with the word 'crap' it makes even more sense. Frighteningly so. I mention this merely because the Arts Centre currently has a 'local' exhibition of art allegedly from Devonport, co-ordinated by a team of execs from London, and it's...well...'local'.
So after 8:30pm, this 'migraine' progressed into the rotten illness I have now, and I had to call my father and get taken up to my parents house where I could be looked after, rather than lie and rot in my pit at home...
Anyway, I've bored you long enough.
I'm going to be at my parents house for a couple more days and I now have a week off work to get my health back together and not be so run down all the time.
Plenty of bedrest and vitamins.
Feed Me Mother!!
Ho hum...oh, and I just weighed myself...I have lost a whole stone since Xmas!!!
Being ill certainly has its uses I suppose:)?
Back to bed I go.